Harry Potter and the Twilight Obelisk
by Sullivan Stephens
Summary: This is my first attempt at therapeutic fanfiction writing. I'm a huge H.P. fan and I kinda fall into withdrawal. If you can relate, you should enjoy this. It's my interpretation of book six.
1. Chapter 1 Fall of the Dursley Dynasty

Thousands of robed figures danced in the green firelight. Muggles and wizards alike were dragged into the center of the Death Eater ring. A platform of skulls rose ten feet into the fatal vapors within the circle of brilliant fire surrounding it, casting grisly shadows along the rows of vacant eye sockets and eerily gaping jaws. Steps of rot-colored mist floated up to the top of the pile from the pyre and met with the flowing black robes of the Death Eaters evil king. The green smoke illuminated his fiendish grin, glinting from the sharp fangs that served as teeth, tickling his snakelike slits of nostrils and shimmering in his dilated, bottomless red eyes. The crowd sang in an unholy chorus as another innocent victim of their evil master's curses disappeared in a jet of green fire, flashing into the night. The ground showed to be a graveyard in the explosion, and only one gravestone still stood. It acted as a centurion before a gaping black hole: an empty grave. Voldemort rose from his ebon throne and floated down the mist steps; the crowd split before him in reverent terror. He approached the grave and raised his wand at the headstone. More deep green fire issued from his black wand. It shone full on the cemetery rock- this too seemed to cower before the tall, gaunt figure of evil before it- and settled on its surface, forming strange, singing letters that danced and flickered. Voldemort read his handiwork to his followers' delight: "Harry Potter!"  
  
Harry jumped up, launching a copy of Hogwarts: A History, which Hermione had finally persuaded him to read after six years, at Hedwig's cage at the foot of his wretched little bed. The snow owl gave an indignant hoot when she first opened her eyes, but when she turned to see her sixteen year old master with a look of utter fright on his face, she became concerned.  
  
Harry Potter, who had outgrown the bed the Dursleys had given him years ago, got to his feet to avoid further discomfort from lying there any longer. "Voldemort?" he whispered to himself. "Has he returned?"  
  
Then he thought for a moment. Of course Voldemort was back; he'd returned from his state of wretched, disembodied powerlessness two years ago...The Triwizard Tournament...Mad-eye Moody; actually, an imposter...the three unforgivable curses...  
  
He sighed and headed for his desk. He was still weak from his dream, and his scar ached, a zigzag thunderbolt of pain on his forehead. The last time his scar had ached...Voldemort. It always came back to Voldemort. Ron, whose father had become a very prominent person at the Ministry of Magic since Voldemort's return, had sent him an urgent owl-carried message the day before. Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had succeeded in his campaign for Minister of Magic. Every vote had gone to him; it was the greatest victory for a political office ever, except for Merlin's (he had even had Muggle votes) Of course, after the incompetent Cornelius Fudge, who had flatly refused to believe that Voldemort had come back, the Wizarding community was willing to have an honest, wise Minister. Unfortunately, if Dumbledore was going to be running the entire Ministry of Magic, he couldn't very well remain headmaster at Hogwarts, could he? Ron's letter explained that Dumbledore had left someone in charge that everyone would agree to, but he hadn't told anyone who it was. Harry trusted Dumbledore, though, and he preferred the great wizard to be leading the fight against Dumbledore from an influential position where he had authority over all the available resources, even if Harry's enjoyment of his sixth year looked less promising. He tried to assure himself that Dumbledore, who had never been wrong about...well, anything before, was sure to pick the perfect successor, but Harry doubted whether anyone as capable, as fatherly, or as funny even existed. But school started in a few weeks, so he had plenty of time to keep it out of his mind.  
  
One after another, thoughts crept into his head, and he remembered all of the recent events. First and most importantly, Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had been cleared of the false charges against him. His property and money, which the Ministry had seized after his arrest years ago, were restored to him, and...Today! Yes, that was what Harry had forgotten; that was what he'd been thinking of ever since the Ministry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius had sent their owls to him: Harry was going to move out of his odious Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's home, was going to abandon his life of hand-me-downs and shoddy treatment, was on his way to a life without abuse and maltreatment; he was off to live with his godfather! Harry would finally be a part of the wizarding community that he loved; he would never have to leave the world of magic to return to a wretched life as a slave to his wicked relatives. From now on, there would be no more Dursleys. No more-  
  
"Get up, boy," the piggy voice of Uncle Vernon commanded, followed by a vicious knock on the door. "Don't want to be late. It's nearly five o'clock. That fellow'll be here soon, and I don't want one dreadful foot of his past my door! Get up!" With that, the heavy tread moved down the hall to Dudley's room where Uncle Vernon cooed softly and lovingly to wake his fat son from his snoring slumber.  
  
Harry rose from the chair awkwardly. He must have fallen asleep in the chair after he'd woken up in the night...  
  
In a sudden flood, every horror of the dream came back to Harry. Voldemort. He sighed. With every blessing, he had to expect some complication: there's always a catch, after all. Living among wizards and becoming part of the magical world permanently also meant the threat of Voldemort. The great world he loved was vulnerable to that evil. But, he thought, I'd rather have moments of fear and troubles of my own than spend another minute in this hell. At least I'd have something to do, he thought and chuckled.  
  
Bathed, dressed, and carrying everything Harry cared for (all of his wizard possessions, and only the clothes he had gotten at Hogsmeade, as presents, or from Mrs. Weasley) which all fit into his large school trunk. It was terribly heavy, despite Harry's few possessions, and he wished he could use a simple levitation spell, but magic is forbidden in the Muggle world. Besides, he had already packed his wand.  
  
Uncle Vernon strode out of the house with a giddy smile on his large face. He was elated that Harry was leaving. Harry heard him muttering, "Gone forever, gone forever," under his breath.  
  
"Why are you waiting out here?" Vernon asked suspiciously. Every time one of Harry's friends had visited him or picked him up, they had used an "unusual" method of transportation, such as broomstick flying or Floo powder. They had never come by car or bus to pick him up at the roadside, so Harry could understand his uncle's confusion.  
  
Harry was about to say, "The letter said to wait outside," but that would never convince Uncle Vernon, who hated and mistrusted Harry's "abnormal" friends. "He's got a Mug...he's got a car," Harry explained untruthfully. Actually, he was just as confused.  
  
Vernon Dursley looked at Harry out of the corner of his eyes with apprehension, and then he abruptly left Harry and marched back up the steps where his wife and son were waiting with huge smiles. He called back, "Goodbye, Potter," and closed the door behind him and his family with a bang. That was the end of the Dursleys.  
  
Harry opened the trunk and rummaged in it for a minute to find the letter from his godfather. When he found it, he opened it to reassure himself about the time, but he was soon rereading the whole thing, and a smile broke out on his face.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I can't tell you how happy I am, Harry. The trial just finished, and I had to write. I'm free, Harry. With your evidence and Dumbledore's help, I was retried and found innocent. What's more, I got a formal apology and legal rights as your guardian. You're going to live with me, my boy. I'll finally be able to protect you from your side. I was also given a wonderful new job, and I've got all my friends back. Of course, most of them are, well, still a little uncertain. I know it will take them awhile before they can trust me again, and I don't blame them: those were dark times, Harry. There are dark times ahead, too, Harry, and that's why it's especially important that you stay out of trouble.  
  
Dumbledore's a shoe-in for Minister of Magic. Fudge has lost all his support; in fact, he's in quite a pinch about not having told the Ministry about You-know-who's return. Too bad Azkaban's been abolished. It would have been justice for Fudge to serve a sentence at that blasted dungeon. Oh, well; can't have everything, can we?  
  
I'm not wasting more than a day to fetch you, Harry. Won't allow it. I'll be over this coming Saturday to get you out of that dreadful house. Wait outside by the weird black road.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Sirius  
  
P.S. Tell Ron and Hermione to prepare for a visit from a free man!  
  
Harry had followed the postscript instruction to a tee; he'd sent Hedwig to Ron's immediately after receiving the news. He told Ron to fetch Hermione. Harry knew that Hermione usually stayed at the Weasley's in the weeks leading up to school, and this was definitely an occasion to get her out of her Muggle household a little early. This was cause for celebration. Even in this era of tension, the magic world held moments of happiness.  
  
As he was putting the letter back, Harry heard a sudden noise from inside the house. Aunt Petunia was screaming...no, that was Dudley! Uncle Vernon's voice rose above the screaming, and Harry could barely distinguish a crescendoed, "Not again!" The unmistakable sounds of chaos that always followed the arrival of a wizard in the little suburban home on Privet Drive met Harry's ears. He left his trunk and rushed to the house.  
  
He threw open the door and found an all too common site. Uncle Vernon was furious and blustering, an unconscious Aunt Petunia in his arms. Dudley was crying and screaming in a fit in the corner. Mrs. Weasley, her daughter Ginny, her son Ron, and their friend Hermione were standing in positions of the utmost sympathy and apology. Hermione was calmly trying to explain that Floo powder enables wizard folk to travel from fireplace to fireplace while Mrs. Weasley seemed content to apologize over and over again and ask where Harry might be.  
  
When she saw Harry, she gave him a quick look. She mouthed the words, "Let's just go," and he nodded. He was about to hurry outside for his trunk, but he decided against it. He couldn't very well abandon poor Mrs. Weasley to cope with the abhorrent Dursleys, and the noise was too loud to say anything. He was hesitant to use a spell, but it seemed to be the only thing manageable. Having extracted his wand from his trunk (he was going to amuse himself by practicing the wrist movements used with wands while he waited for Sirius) when he took out the letter, he gripped it, flicked it, and said, "Accio luggage." A faint scrape was heard, and the trunk made its entrance. It flew into the hall from outside, bursting the door open and splintering the hinges. The Dursleys were too overcome with rage, fear, and a million sundry dreads to pay any mind to the injury of the door; they continued a steady flow of screaming, fainting cries, and livid exclamations.  
  
Harry, lugging his trunk to the fireplace, was about to ask Mrs. Weasley where Sirius was, but she forestalled him. "I'll explain at the Burrow," she said and handed him some Floo powder. The Muggles went on and on with incessant wailing while the wizards, Harry then Ron and Hermione, followed by Ginny, disappeared through the orange blaze. Of course, it wasn't until the Weasleys had burst through the electric fire a few years back that flue travel had been possible in the Dursleys' home. As Harry exited in the blur of his surroundings, he realized that the Dursleys' had resealed the fireplace after that...plaster, paint, and chips of wood lay strewn about the floor of the living room on Privet Drive. And with a puff of fire and a final whirlwind of shapes and colors, equal to the resonant whoosh that accompanied his brief journey, Harry Potter landed in the kitchen of the Burrow, the Weasleys' home, and that was the last he ever did see of Vernon, Petunia, or Dudley Dursley. 


	2. Chapter 2 Discussions Under the Burrow a...

Chapter 2 Discussions at the Burrow  
  
When everyone had settled down at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley told Ron to take Harry and Ginny to take Hermione to the beds set up upstairs. Mrs. Weasley told them that Charlie and Bill, the eldest Weasley boys, were gone–that wasn't uncommon as they lived elsewhere–and Percy was working at the Ministry, as was Mr. Weasley. Fred and George had gone to Diagon Alley to buy some school supplies (Harry doubted whether the prankster twins would stick to that instruction). She told Harry she would talk to him at lunch which would be in a few minutes. Harry was glad to note that she seemed to be in high spirits. That is, higher spirits than she was usually in nowadays with two of her boys, one husband and one son, working doggedly for the Ministry–that kind of work invariably meant dealing with dark forces.  
On the way up the long staircase, Harry asked Ron if he knew what had happened to Sirius to keep him from picking Harry up as promised.  
"Don't know for sure, but Mum said something about his new job," Ron said, helping Harry with his suitcase.  
Behind them, Ginny was assisting Hermione with her suitcase, but she wasn't much help; she was quite short and too feminine to be much good at the slightest bit of physical labor, not to mention how thoroughly wrapped up she was in anything Harry said or did, or anything pertaining to him in the smallest degree. Thus, she continually halted or faltered with the large suitcase. Hermione was greatly annoyed and insisted that she could handle the suitcase. Without a word, Ginny dropped it and hurried to Harry's side, leaving Hermione to deal with her heavy burden.  
Ron and Harry, too engrossed in the possible jobs Sirius might have ("If he's an Auror, he's out blasted Death Eaters and You-know-who's goons," Ron suggested. Auror's were wizards who dealt with evil wizards, witches, beasts, and other dark magic affiliates), did not notice the girls. In fact, they often did, but pretended not to. Ginny had the annoying effect, Harry often said, of making him turn red, and Hermione, Ron habitually stated, made the tall, red-haired Weasley talk funny.  
In the boys' room, Ron and Harry changed the subject by mutual consent; the possibility of Sirius being in trouble was too great for either one of them not to mention sooner or later, so, to avoid any mention of danger, they discussed Quidditch. The game of great wizard sportsmen, Quidditch was always the perfect topic of discussion for a wizard with something upsetting on his or her mind; unfortunately, nearly everyone talked nonstop about Quidditch.  
  
The Weasleys were renowned for their big hearts and small coin purses. They were all very gentle and generous people with freckles and red hair, and the boys were all very tall like their father. Ron and Ginny were the only two Weasley children left at Hogwarts, but Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George were seen frequently. Percy, of course, was far too important to leave work...that is, he thought he was too important.  
On this occasion, lunch was a small affair. Only Mrs. Molly Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry sat around the immense wooden family dining table, and for this family five people is uncommonly few for a meal. They ate in relative peace, speaking only about vague topics and making a distinct effort to avoid unpleasant subjects; they would undoubtably have time for that later.  
As lunch came to a close–they had feasted on a great many Weasley dishes, and Molly was a fantastic cook, enjoying Broiled Blue Butter Broosters and Wand Wafer Flake Cake–the backdoor flew open and the twins, George and Fred, entered in a hustle and bustle of practical joke toys and accessories, a few school supplies, and a tornado of Early Explosive Wands and Artie Rotts' Nasty Flavor Beans–just like Bertie's only strictly awful flavors–accompanied by waves of laughter. The madness engulfed Ginny and Ron, and Hermione was carried away in a torrent of protests.   
Harry was on his way out of the kitchen to join the boys in there room so he could peruse their no doubt ill-gotten goods when Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her and noted the determined family sparkle in her eye. Harry couldn't imagine a world bad enough to make Mrs. Weasley see a glass half empty. This reassured him and lightened the weight that he had pushed to the back of his mind. He even smiled a full, genuine smile.  
In her sweetly drawling voice, she said, "Harry dear, a quick word?"   
He nodded. "Sure."  
She led him back to the kitchen, sat down, and sipped at her tea. She offered Harry a sip, and, accepting, he tasted the grey mystery. It was excellent.  
Mrs. Weasley said, "I'm going to get the children's things tomorrow–Ginny and Ron–and I'll get yours too, dear, if you leave your list."  
He thanked her and said he would.  
She smiled. "You've probably heard about Dumbledore?" Harry made a noncommital nod. She went on with some difficulty, "This means he won't be around during the school year, you know. Any problems will have to be taken up with the new headmaster."  
Harry interrupted, "Which is? Anyone I might know?"  
She shrugged. "Not sure. Ministry secret; don't want to give anyone a heads-up." By this she meant that the Ministry wanted to ensure that the Dark Forces were not given the opportunity to plan against this new obstacle. It couldn't be doubted that Harry was now energetically sought after by He-who-must-not-be-named and his cohorts. "Either way, he probably won't be as lenient as Dumbledore. Of course, Dumbledore was only lenient because he always had a backup plan. This new headmaster mightn't. Just you be careful, love."  
He promised he would. "And anyway," he said, "I'm old enough to take care of myself. I might not be able to Apparate on school grounds, but I've managed before, haven't I?"  
Mrs. Weasley smiled proudly. "Aye, Harry, you've taken on some mighty foes, you have. And I think you're quite capable, same as Hermione and Ron, of handling many more, so long as you take care." She hurriedly blurted, "Not that I encourage you to get into trouble, of course; I would never do that. But..." She looked at Harry pleadingly, and he gave her a friendly grin of understanding.  
"Oh, and remember, Harry," she continued, "Keep your grades up. You've done well your last years, especially with your OWLS, but don't slack off this year. Stick to your work. You have quite a few new classes this year, and some of them aren't pretty. Of course, at about your age, young wizards and witches get to start choosing specialized classes. Usually teachers and students have a good idea of who will take what, just like we all knew Charlie would specialize with creatures. Look at him now; over in Romania and working with dragons. See? There have been some questions about you, though..." Harry knew that Hogwarts sent the Weasleys all of Harry's documents according to arrangements that Dumbledore had made. Mrs. Weasley had been concerned that Harry was showing too much interest in too many things; Harry actually didn't know what to specialize in and just happened to be quite intelligent and do well in most of his classes. Molly and Arthur Weasley had already had "Specialty" talks with George, Fred, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry before, but they had gotten vague answers the majority of the time. Harry figured he had time to choose a specialty later and, given the circumstances, hardly felt up to thinking about it right now. That was exactly the message conveyed by his face, and Mrs. Weasley moved on.  
Harry was terribly interested in current affairs of the magic world. This was mostly due to the resurrection of Voldemort and the fact that he wanted to shed Harry's blood, devastate his soul, rob him of his life, and...in any case, Harry was terribly interested in current affairs. Mrs. Weasley began filling him in.  
"No doubt Ron and Hermione have told you about the new Board of Wizardly Brotherhood."   
Harry shook his head, confused.   
"Really?" Mrs. Weasley seemed shocked. "I thought for certain Hermione would have said something."   
Another well known fact was Hermione's fanatical involvement with freedom, acceptance, and fairness for all races. She strove to liberate house Elves, whom everyone knew were happy as slaves and loved to work and help. She had even plotted to protest for giants at a Ministry building, but she didn't know where any of them were!  
"Well," Harry said slowly, "she didn't call it that, anyway. She called it 'the Ministry's poor attempt at apologizing to our tremendous racial diversity in the magic world for so many years of hatred, intolerance, stupidity' and...some more colorful language that only Hermione can understand."   
Mrs. Weasley smiled but didn't laugh; she knew that he was serious.  
Harry said, "Yeah, she mentioned it. So did Ron, but he just said that there was a new department at the Ministry. He said something about Madame Maxime, too?"  
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, that's two school heads that we've replaced: one for Hogwarts, one for Beauxbatons. Madame Maxime was elected chairwoman, and quite a shock it was. Unusual to have a half giant in charge in its first year I would have thought, but maybe the new Way...that is, the way of tolerance and peace and brotherhood that Dumbledore's encouraging is actually working. Do you think the petty ways of Magical Politics are gone, Harry?"  
Harry, accustomed to being asked his opinion by the Weasleys, promptly replied, "I sure hope so. They've never done any good, as far as I've seen." Indeed, it was the blind ways of Dumbledore's predecessors that had led to so much trouble for Harry. In fact, many witches and wizards were convinced that the Ministry had turned its head to so many problems and become so much like the Muggles that they had made it easy for He-who-must-not-be-named to come back.  
Molly sighed and took a pull of tea. "Harry, about your godfather...I don't want you to be put out or disappointed, and neither does he. He had us fetch you from your...your relatives' because he's working terribly hard at his new job. He would have sent you an owl, but...He wants to keep his position a secret for now, dear, until he can give you a proper...Well, he wants to show you rather than tell you. Do you understand?"  
Harry understood inasmuch as the general concept was intelligible, but he couldn't imagine what occupation Sirius had gotten that he would get a chance to show Harry...unless...  
"Of course," he answered a little too loud. He stole another swig of her rich tea and charged up the steps.  
In the boys' room, which all the Weasley boys shared, red scruffs and an immense poof of blond-brown hair encircled a pile of interesting magical pranks and gadgets. Gingerbread Bad-advice Booby-trap Books were telling the medley of boys and girls that washing was a bad habit when Harry entered.  
Ron turned to Harry and, grinning, displayed what appeared to be a standard writing quill. "Intoxicating tips," he said. "You know, for people who chew on their quills. Sloshes 'em write off to La La Land."  
"I need to talk to you," Harry said, desperately hoping that no one else was paying attention; he didn't want to make anyone upset if he could help it. Luckily they were all involved in Fred and George's jokester exercises, all of them vowing never to nibble the ends of their quills ever again.  
Ron followed Harry into the stairwell, down the steps, and out the kitchen door into the garden. When Harry was satisfied that no one could hear them, he said, "I think I know what Sirius is up to."  
Ron, who was also very fond of Sirius and had helped to clear his name, quickly asked, "Well, what is it?"  
Harry whispered, "I think he's taken up a teaching position at Hogwarts. I mean, that would explain how he planned on seeing me during the year. Not to mention, I would have thought he'd've thrown a fit about Dumbledore being gone from the school; you know how protective he is. Well, if he could manage to be around...That would make him happy, wouldn't it? Then he could watch me himself."  
Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "But what teaching spots are open this year? Not Defense Against the Dark Arts–which, by the way, Mum wants to keep me from specializing in; doesn't fancy having another Weasley off fighting You-know-who, though I'd like to be an Auror. The real Mad-eye Moody took up that job, and I doubt if you could pry him off with an Unforgivable Curse."  
"What about Potions? Snape doesn't teach that any more, you wrote," said Harry. "I don't know what he's doing–probably pulling his double agent act on Vol..." Ron shivered. "You-know-who for all we know–but he's not a teacher, at least not for Potions."  
"No," said Ron. "The Potions teacher is a friend of Charlie's. His girlfriend."  
"Really," Harry asked, agog. He never imagined Charlie for the type to have a girlfriend. Like Percy, he was always too engrossed in work.  
"Nah, but we like to give him hell about it. No, she's some doctor type from Romania. Went to school at Durmstrung, so I'm not sure how well she'll go over as a Hogwarts teacher. Total babe, though. Least that's one plus for next year."  
"Is Hagrid still on Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked, hoping Ron would say no. Hagrid was notoriously fond of vicious, nasty beasts that were afraid of him for his size, but boy did they love to torment his students.   
"Yeah, but he's eased off a bit. Says that all the really dangerous beasts are either working for He-who-mustn't-be-named or are being used to track the Death Eaters and give 'em a run for their gold." Ron puzzled a moment further. Then he snapped his fingers, looking pleased. "I've got it. It's a new job. Something new, I'll wager, just for ol' Sirius."  
Harry crinkled his nose in scepticism. "I dunno. I mean, he'd be perfect for Defense A.D.A. What else can he teach?"  
"Umm. Well, he could teach us how to do the animogous trick." Sirius was an animogous, or lycanthrope. He could morph into a dog at his will, which had been highly useful when he'd been running from the Ministry; he knew he was innocent, but they were determined to throw him back to the Dementors. 


End file.
